


roystache begone!

by Tasia (ruikosakuragi)



Series: FMA Tumblr Events 2018 [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Comedy, Drunk!Riza, Drunk!Roy, Evil Mustaches, F/M, FMA Angst Week 2018, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Royai - Freeform, Roystache, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-20 16:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15538722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruikosakuragi/pseuds/Tasia
Summary: Riza Hawkeye has a new purpose in life: to rid the world of the most disgusting stache.Written for FMA Angst Week Day 7 Prompt: Fluff





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Because we all know he’s better off without it.

“Riza, pleeeaaase!” the brunette pleaded. Her eyes were enlarged, sparkling, glittering, and her pupils dilated. She reminded her of Black Hayate.

“No,” she replied before going back to the form in front of her.

“But Grumman promised me a raise!” she reasoned, stomping her feet rapidly on the ground similar to a child begging for candy.

“No,” Riza repeated firmly.

“Pretty please? I promise I’ll stop setting you up for blind dates!” She fumbled for something, _anything_ , that would win her over. In her last attempt, Rebecca whispered the one thing that prompted the Captain look up from her paperwork, “Riza, you know you’re the only one he listens to.”

She deadpanned on her best friend. “Rebecca, if he wants to keep it, he can keep it. If he doesn’t, then he’ll get rid of it. The General is an adult and can decide for himself.”

Rebecca scoffed, “There’s no way I can convince you, is there?”

Riza shook her head. Like clockwork.

The brown-haired sniper grumbled away full of attitude, steam hissing from her ears, and she moved onto her next victim. Riza watched her back as she sauntered to the blonde-haired First Lieutenant flopping casually across her desk, mercilessly begging for his aid. Riza could hear Rebecca lure him in her seductive voice, promising him a once in a lifetime “adventure” if he were to agree. They started to bicker when Havoc squeaked a “no”, too afraid of the Flame Alchemist’s inferno to accept her request, but leaving him very much vulnerable to Catalina’s fury. Riza chuckled to herself. This wasn’t the first time anyone had propositioned her regarding the General’s mustache.

The first person had been Fuhrer Grumman, her grandfather. He believed his next successor had to look presentable, stating that just because him and Bradley had donned a mustache, it didn’t mean that Mustang had to also. He persuaded her to talk to him, preaching to her how the citizens of Amestris would take him less seriously with that _monstrosity_ , as her grandfather put it, but Riza didn’t budge. If anything, she was irritated that her grandfather believed it was even remotely reasonable. He then moved on to play the guilt trip card on her by advising her that if she cared for him, she would consider his best interest at heart and let him know what a terrible mistake he made. _Wrong_. Grandfather was absolutely, without a doubt, wrong. Riza argued that it was actually _harder_ to tell someone they love to do something like this. She reaffirmed to her grandfather that she would want nothing to do with his request, and he eventually stopped pestering her.

The next person had been First Lieutenant Jean Havoc, who approached her for advice on how to convince him to shave it off. He complained that he was losing his wingman because no lady would ever do a double take with that “thin, disgusting hair above his lips”. She suggested to Havoc that all he needed to do was ask, and ask he did. Riza probably should have taken into consideration the fact that Havoc wasn’t the most… _strategic_ person when it came to the act of persuasion, but she had left him to his own devices and she watched with amusement as he casually approached Mustang and told him how _fugly_ his mustache was. Perhaps Riza should have also assessed his ability to be tactful.... So not only did Havoc manage to insult Mustang, he was also banned from bringing up the topic ever again. Nevertheless, Jean didn’t care much for a wingman anymore after he and Rebecca started dating, leaving the General with one less person to pester him about his facial hair.

“Captain,” The door behind her opened, and Mustang emerged with paperwork in hand. “Ready?”

Riza nodded curtly, falling into step behind him to his left, and she followed him out of the office.

She watched his back with admiration. Gone were the days of his apprenticeship with her father, the drama queen city boy, and the cheeky student who pulled pranks on her as a child. He grew to become someone dependable, a reliable friend, a caring boss, and a loyal soldier who shared her ideals; the visionary who strove to make the world a better place.

She pondered over her best friend’s request. Maybe her grandfather had been right... Maybe it was high time someone said something... After all, rumor had it that _everyone_ in Central loathed his mustache. Could it be possible that his fuhrership was at stake if he was a laughing stock? No, Riza, that’s not possible, she convinced herself. Grandfather couldn’t be that shallow of an asshole to take all of his hard work away because of a _stupid_ mustache. _Be firm_ , she chastised herself, remember why you said no in the first place. So while she agreed that his facial hair was unsightly, she reminded herself that she was _not_ superficial enough to ask him to do such thing… and she sure as hell wasn’t his babysitter; the General could do whatever he pleased.

Nevertheless, a little voice whispered in her ear, pointing out to her that when he does become Fuhrer, the news agencies would have his photos printed throughout the country and his mustache would be on Every. Single. Newspaper. _Oh for fuck’s sake_.

She took wider strides to close the distance between them, inching a little bit more to his left while still trailing perfectly a step behind, but she was able to get a closer look at his face. She glanced at the thin black hair peeking from under his nose, paying attention to it closely as Rebecca’s words repeated in her head over and over: _hideous, atrocious, worms, gag!..._ and she reflexively made a face when she realized how ghastly it really was. It was as if a three-year-old drew it on with a black marker, a sort of uneven diagonal line that ended at the corner of his lips. It was shaped funny, too, in that it arched a little bit at the center and then thinned out at the ends. And as hard as it was for Riza to admit, she had to hand it to Breda in that it reminded her of Yoki’s mustache except that the length wasn’t as exaggerated. What the hell was the General thinking?

She took another glance with her periphery, studying his facial hair yet again, and realized how _gross_ looking it was as it wiggled when he swallowed. _Ugh_ . She fixated on it a little longer, and noticed how it _bobbed_ when he started talking. And the more she focused on it, the more she wanted to get rid of the abomination. She wanted to just extend her finger and pluck Each. Hair. Off. Of. His. Face… right… now… and she realized he was asking her something. _Oh shit._

“CAPTAIN?” Mustang repeated for the second time, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Oh!” she gasped out loud and quickly directed her gaze from his mustache to his eyes in an instant. Hopefully he didn’t realize what she had been staring at.

“Is something wrong?” he asked with a curious lilt as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Um, no… Sorry, General.” He paused as he studied her expression, but Riza stood still, her face a blank canvas. He waited for her to say something more, hand lingering on her shoulder, but she was as quiet as a mouse, merely staring him dead in the eye. He understood, somewhat, that whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough for her to share, so he hesitantly returned to his step and resumed their pace. She sighed in relief and took a step back to her appropriate position, but something clicked in her head and she stopped walking.

“Gen-neral,” she called out reluctantly, “actually... yes, there is something I want to say.”

Mustang halted and turned around to face her, nodding in understanding so she could proceed with her thoughts.

“Would you—would you want to get dinner tonight?” she muttered under her breath.

His eyes widened at her question, disbelief visible on his face, but then his expression turned bright as he registered her words. He warmly whispered, “Captain, of course, I would get dinner with you. Should I pick you up at nineteen hundred hours tonight? I know a place near the market—”

She interrupted quickly, “No. I--I will be cooking. You can come over then.”

His eyes widened even more, eyeballs ready to pop out of their sockets, but then the rest of his expression slowly softened as he smiled, “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Riza threw a genuine smile at him, but in her head, she could hear gears clicking in place.

 

* * *

 

Riza rose from the sofa when she heard the sound of the doorbell chiming. She swiftly rushed to the kitchen and poured the alcoholic drink she had concocted prior to the brim, planting it strategically on the coffee table where she anticipated Mustang would sit. Besides the drink, she had placed a collectible whiskey bottle from the mid-1800’s that her grandfather had saved for special occasions. It was a strong spirit, alcohol percentage so high it shot through the roof; it was the perfect weapon for her plan tonight. And plus, she knew Mustang would never say no to good whiskey. Next to the whiskey bottle, she had deposited a bottle of red wine to drink with their dinner and a large bottle of vodka to take shots, just in case. She was proud of her last-minute implementation, her alcohol-laden coffee table; she just hoped that those would be enough for Mustang to let loose...

She fixed the hem of her crumpled, sleeveless dress shirt and straightened her black pleated skirt. Her hair was down to her back and she brushed the length of it with her fingers as she walked to the foyer. She opened the door, revealing the handsome looking General. His fair complexion seemed flawless under fluorescent light, his hair was neatly slicked back, and his dark orbs had the softest look she had ever seen on him in recent times. He was dressed to the nines with a slim, tweed jacket accentuating his muscular biceps and a white dress shirt that fit snugly around his torso it essentially outlined his 6-pack abdomen underneath. She sure _liked_ what she saw, but when she traversed her sight back up to his face and saw his black _worms_ , slithering on the area above his lips… she died a little inside.

“Come in, General,” she greeted, producing a small smile.

“Thanks, Captain,” he smiled back. “Here, these are for you.”

He handed her a bouquet of white roses, and she sniffed the flowers, muttering a quick thank you under her breath. He looked at her with affection, and Riza could feel her stomach twist in wonderful ways as she met his eyes. His gaze softened, and he closed the gap between them, speaking in a low, husky voice, “I was surprised when you said you will be cooking... We haven't had a chance to enjoy ourselves after the rebuilding and planning the inauguration,” he inched closer to her face and she could smell his minty breath, “I… miss this. I miss yo-”

Riza forced a step back, his words blaring an alarm in her head, and she interjected ever so formally, “Sir, stop right there.” She made a hand gesture in the small gap between their bodies, index finger tutting like pendulum swing, informing him that they were entering the realm of misconduct, “What you were going to say would be considered breaking the fraternization law.”

“Ahh I know, Captain, I know,” he replied, but Riza could hear disappointment infused in his voice.

Riza became mute as she discerned his tone, but Roy quickly noticed and attempted to lighten the air, breaking the awkward silence, “But don’t you worry, Captain. I won’t tell anyone what I said if you won’t. Oh hey, did you hear about Fullmetal and Winry being pregnant with their fourth? They sure are productive, aren't they?”

Riza rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but form a small smile on her lips. She glimpsed at the man before her, watching him laugh at his own antics… but then he winked... and then his mustache wiggled as his mouth curved upward, and Riza could taste something a little sour in her mouth. And then he cocked his eyebrows once… twice… and then his mustache wiggled again. _Oh god, she couldn’t unsee it_. Mustang stared at her abhorred expression and his jovial face turned to one of uneasiness, like he had said something wrong, but they were jolted from their thoughts when they heard approaching footsteps from the hallway. She realized that they were still standing by the foyer, door opened wide, so she took his arm gently and led him into her living room.

“Sorry, General. Please sit. I already have dinner prepared. Tonight, we are going to have pasta with grilled chicken,” she stated nonchalantly as she walked to the kitchen, “and, I have a special bottle prepared for us in the living room. You can take a look if you want.”

Mustang trotted to her coffee table, wondering what she had prepared for him, and his sight landed on the clear whiskey bottle. His eyes widened with shock as he picked up the bottle, “Ri—Captain! This is Bushmills 1900s! Where did you get this? This is a rare bottle!”

“Ahh, I got that from grandfather. He said we should celebrate for your inauguration next month...”

“Really? But that’s next month. I don’t know, Captain… this is a very expensive whiskey, and I’d hate to waste it on a working night like tonight…”

“Are you saying eating dinner with an old _friend_ is not cause for celebration?” Riza countered.

Her reminder of their relationship status stabbed him in the chest. “…I suppose you’re right,” he chuckled awkwardly and placed the bottle back on the coffee table.

She brought the plated food in her hand, putting them on the coffee table in front of him, and she convinced him further, “Tonight _is_ a special night,” and she pushed his plate toward him, smiling, “Like you said earlier, we don’t get to spend much time together like this to catch up.”

“I agree, but we do see each other almost every day, Captain.”

“That’s true, but I mean outside of work, like back when we used to always eat together in father’s backyard,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Riza could see a melancholy smile tug on his lips as he registered her words. He drowned in memories, recalling the savory sandwiches she had prepared for him for their picnic dates, and the lemons that she asked him to pick for her homemade pie, and how they reveled in the domesticity of it all. It was truly a wonderful time, before Ishval, before the Promised Day, one he wouldn’t mind going back to.

He shifted his gaze to the dish in front of him, picking up the plate and twirling the pasta, eager to taste her cooking. Riza watched him take a bite of the linguini, and he looked so adorable as he closed his eyes to savor his meal, just like back then. It made Riza feel all fluttery inside... Not that he ever failed to do that to her. She resumed her study of his expression as he ate, and she couldn't help but giggle with fondness… but then her gaze shifted to his mustache and focused on how it squirmed wildly as he chewed and Riza gulped in horror as she watched it move. She screamed inside, like souls threatening to burst out of its philosopher's stone, as she impatiently waited to execute what she had planned for him tonight. She stomped one foot on the ground, and her face turned serious as she picked up the whiskey bottle in her hand. _It’s showtime._

“Sir,” she interrupted, “should we toast?”

“Oh- uh okay?” He put his fork down on his plate, “We haven’t even finished dinner yet, but that’s fine by me.”

She handed him a rocks glass before taking one for herself and pouring the whiskey, clinking their glasses together. “To Amestris. To Democracy. To ridding the world of all _evils_ ,” she emphasized the last word, which prompted Mustang to give her a strange look. She chose to ignore it and took a sip, and she could feel her taste bud buzz as the alcohol touched her tongue; it was damn good whiskey. She heard him ahh’ed with an exaggerated satisfaction as he took a swig, and she was ready to launch the next plan of attack.

Rebecca had warned her that mixing sugar and different types of alcohol would intoxicate someone faster, and so she applied this idea and hoped it would work on Roy. God knows he was a strong drinker, so she couldn’t waste their short, precious time with lousy attempts. No, she _needed_ to go all out. She picked up the mixed drink she had prepared earlier, handing it over to him, and she clinked her whiskey glass to it, “Try my concoction before we eat. I made this just for you.” She smiled innocently.

He took the blue colored creation from her hand, and he took a large gulp, “My, my, Captain. Are you trying to get me drunk tonight?”

Riza smiled before she casually replied, “Of course not.”

_Bingo._

 

* * *

 

**Two Hours Later…**

“Do you remember that time when Master Hawkeye caught us sneaking out?” Roy laughed boisterously as he relived the memory from their childhood. Riza giggled, feeling elated from the alcohol, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t get too carried away with the drinking. She observed Roy, and she noticed his cheeks had been permanently red for the past hour, the color of an overripe tomato, and his body was relaxed. His arms slumped by his side, and his body was lazily propped up by the bottom frame of the sofa he leaned on, and his suit jacket had been tossed aside somewhere in the recesses of her living room. She listened to him ramble on and on about their childhood under her father’s roof, laughing out loud, reeking of alcohol. _Good. He’s ready._

“Roy. Hey, Roy!” she snapped to get his attention. Formalities had been dropped for the last hour. “Are you ready to play a game?” she asked with a playful lilt.

He stopped his rambling and nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, it’s called Truth or Dare. Rebecca played it with her dorm mates and she said it was fun. Are you familiar with that game?” Riza supplied.

He nodded again, his eyes glinting with excitement in the dimly lit room.

“Okay, I will go first,” Riza began, “Truth or Dare?”

“If I choose Truth, will he take my eyesight again?”

“Roy!”

“Sorry, sorry. That was tasteless,” he chuckled. “I choose Truth!” he beamed energetically.

“Okay… let's see… Alright, I got it. Who would you rather take with you to an isolated island? Edward or Alphonse?”

He scoffed and answered quickly without missing a beat, “Well this is easy. Alphonse of course. Haven’t you been around me and Fullmetal long enough to know this?”

“Alphonse because he could use alchemy… or Alphonse because he’s much more polite than Edward?”

This time he paused as he considered her question. “Hmm… his alchemy’s nice, but… it’s so much more than that. He respects me, he’s kind... and happy, and he considers others before himself… well, not that Fullmetal doesn't... But Alphonse also trusts me. He’s such a good kid… Yeah… If I ever have a child, I want him… or her… to be like Alphonse...” Mustang mulled out loud before adding, “And if we ever have one like Fullmetal, he can stick with you. He’s more of a momma’s boy.”

Riza felt a sudden rush of blood to her face at the mention of having children with Roy. She imagined two beautiful babies, a boy with blonde hair like hers and a girl with black hair like his. The four of them as a family and she couldn’t deny that it was a lovely picture, but she knew she had to resume the task at hand before he sobered up. She cleared her throat, “Okay, that’s fair. I go next. I choose Truth,” Riza said. She refilled his empty glass with the rest of the wine, and he swigged the maroon liquid in an instant.

“…Who would you rather fuck among the homunculi?”

Riza choked unattractively, “What?!”

He laughed obnoxiously at her facial expression, “You heard me. I’m curious.”

“Well… uh if I have to choose one… I guess Greed.”

“Ew, what the hell, Riza? He’s underage,” Mustang retorted, disgust lacing his voice.

“Roy, you are mistaking my answer. I said Greed, not Ling.”

“Ling was Greed though. Have you ever met Greed before he became Ling? I think not.”

“Fine, but _Greed_ was supposed to be like 200 years old… Besides, Ling isn't underage anymore,” she explained. He stuck his tongue out in disgust, and she narrowed her eyes at him and struck, “And don’t judge me, Roy. You told me you stuck your hand in Lust’s chest and she was like 250 years old. I didn’t know you liked fondling grandmas.”

Roy rubbed the length of her arm, apologizing lightheartedly, and Riza was enveloped in the warmth of his hand and it made her shiver in all the right places.

“Okay, my turn. I choo-oo-ose Truth,” Mustang said in a sing-song.

“Again?” Riza chuckled. “Are you too chicken to do a dare?” she taunted playfully. “Since we’re on the subject of ‘who would you rather’… how about, who would you rather kiss? Breda, Havoc, Fuery, or Falman?”

Mustang paused and squinted his eyes, like he’s contemplating his answer, “Hmm… good one, Riza… and as much as I love them all, I would have to say… Breda…”

“Breda?! Really?” her eyes widened with surprised and she cackled, “I thought you were going to say Havoc.”

“I would have said Havoc, but he smokes too much. I don’t want to kiss an ashtray.”

She nodded in agreement. “Okay, I’ll go with Truth.”

“Okay... I want you to answer this truthfully…” he started, and Riza noted that he was slowly and carefully stringing his words. “You... and Havoc were in... academy together, right? Did he… did he uh… ever make a move on you?”

“Um… why do you want to know?”

“I mean, he’s a good-looking guy and... you’re a good-looking girl. It just… makes sense…” Roy’s gaze downcast as he spoke, concealing his expression from her. Did she detect a hint of jealousy in his tone?

She muttered, “Well… he was definitely friendly, but he acted more like an older brother than anything...”

Riza watched Roy as he sighed in relief, only to speak a moment later before she could contemplate the intention of his question. “Okay, my turn. I choose... Dare!”

And immediately she heard fireworks in the air and the explosion sounded marvelous in her head. Finally! The moment she had been waiting for. _Please be drunk enough. Please still be drunk._

“Roy, I dare you… to shave that mustache!”

He gaped at her, eyebrows arching high, and he paused momentarily.

_Shit. He’s not drunk enough._

...and then he whined, “Bu--but it took me soooo long to grow this…”

Riza gulped, awaiting her repercussion.

“But... Roy Mustang never backs out from a challenge! Consider it done!”

_Phew._

“No, Roy. Shave it. Right. Now,” as she emphasized each word.

“Right now, right now? I don’t have a razor.”

“Don’t worry, I have one right… here.” She dipped her hand inside her purse and took out a box of wrapped shaver along with a small tube of shaving cream. She presented the items to him and he fixated on them, hesitating ever so slightly, but he eventually relented and swiped the cream and the shaver from her hand.

“Alright! I will prove to you that Roy Mustang does not back out of a challenge!” he proclaimed, walking carelessly to her bathroom.

YES! YESSS!! She turned her back to him and squealed in private as he took off. She had the widest grin on her face.

Minutes later he emerged, the god-awful mustache was gone, and his face had never looked more handsome. Riza couldn’t suppress her smile, and she laughed endearingly as he approached her.

“Well aren’t you happy,” Roy stated, soft smile on his face.

“I am. You have no idea,” she giggled, “anyway it's getting late. Should we call it a night? You can take the sofa. You don't look like you will sober up in time to drive.” She unfolded her legs and rose to her knees, wiping down the surface and disposing of used napkins on the coffee table. She was rising to stand, but Mustang grabbed her wrist and caused her to cease her movement.

“We’re not done playing,” he declared, “I counted the number of questions we asked each other. You asked me one too many question, so you technically owe me one more.” Riza could tell that he was now clearheaded, no longer his rambunctious self. He was definitely becoming more coherent with his thinking, too. Riza presumed it was from washing his face and concentrating on shaving off his mustache. Well, shucks.

She nodded quietly, “Okay… Truth then.”

“Riza, I chose dare. I think it’s only fair that you also do a dare,” he reckoned.

Riza eyed him suspiciously, but she discerned nothing wicked in his tone, “Alright… I suppose it won't hurt to do a dare. Go ahead.”

“Riza…” he paused. And she could have sworn she saw a hint of nervousness in his eyes, like he was struggling to speak. “I… I dare you… to kiss me...”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“…Passionately,” he added. He looked serious.

She should have known better.

Riza’s stomach fluttered and her heart skipped another beat. She stared at him with an uncharacteristic gape, and it felt like her heart was going to jump out of her skin at any moment. She could feel heat bubbling on her face, reddening her cheeks, and she really _really_ hoped that he wouldn’t be able to see considering how dark the room was.

She scrambled for an excuse in her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to kiss him. She really wanted to kiss him. She had been waiting all her life for this moment; ever since she was ten, ever since she met him as her father’s apprentice. Riza Hawkeye, however, was the personification of the perfect soldier. She was sensible, logical, able to put duties before emotions, and her sole purpose was to help him get to the top. There was no way she would be breaking fraternization law, not when they had gotten this far. There was absolutely no way that she could agree!

“So? I think you should keep your end of the bargain, Riza,” he gazed at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, no longer hesitating, “After all, you did ask me to shave my mustache.”

Riza swallowed loudly, taking deep breaths as she attempted to calm her palpitating heart, and she felt like ants were crawling up her legs as she felt the rush of adrenaline course through her. She inched herself closer to his face, gazing into his deep, dark orbs, and she gently cupped his cheek, caressing his soft skin with her trembling hand.

Roy was no longer smirking as he felt her calloused hand on his face, too occupied in the overwhelming sensation of her skin. Riza moved her forehead closer to his, and he looked nervous as he quietly regarded her ministration. She could see his heart palpitate rapidly underneath his shirt as she closed the distance between them faster than she anticipated. Their lips hovered over each other’s, mere centimeters away, and she could feel his hot breath on her lips. The tips of their noses touched, and every skin contact, every little sensation only increased their sexual tension, enticing her to seal the deal. Roy, however, could no longer hold his fervor, and he impatiently filled the gap between them until their lips finally locked. Riza was taken aback by his sudden reaction, not expecting him to kiss first, but it was a pleasant surprise that made Riza feel blissful inside.

His plump lips felt soft against hers, and they tasted kind of sweet, like the red wine from earlier, and everything about the kiss submerged her in euphoria. She cupped his other cheek, removing the space between their bodies completely as she straddled his lap. Their bottled-up feelings were let out without reservations like volcanos erupting, lava emitting from their bodies as their passions collide. His back fell to the ground inelegantly and he embraced her hungrily, arms rubbing up and down her back before slipping a hand underneath her shirt.

 

* * *

 

“Riza, I love you! SO! MUCH!” Rebecca squealed at her best friend.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile.

“I didn’t think you’d agree! Anyway, I’ll keep my promise. No more blind dates for you,” she pledged.

“Good,” Riza nodded.

“How did you do it?” her best friend inquired full of curiosity.

“Oh, you know… just this and that,” Riza replied nonchalantly, walking away from her friend and to the General’s desk with a stack of paperwork under her arm.

Rebecca looked at her with prying eyes, and she darted her sight back and forth between the two. She saw Mustang smile as he looked up at the Captain from his chair, and she could see Riza gaze at him with a soft expression, albeit with a stoic mannerism. Something had changed though, Rebecca swore. Something about their interaction pinged an alarm in her head. She saw Riza graze his fingers as she handed him a pen, but then her hand lingered on his for a moment, as if she had done it on purpose. She then saw Mustang reciprocate her gesture, rubbing his thumb elusively over the back of her hand, but Rebecca didn't miss it. She saw everything unfold before her eyes, and she thought she finally understood what had transpired. A smirk pulled at the corner of her lip as she chuckled to herself with disbelief, surprised to learn something new about her best friend today, her best friend who she thought had been inexperienced in the art of seduction. She placed her hands on her hip, smirk turning into a grin as she watched them closely with blatant amusement. They could pretend, but they sure couldn't fool Rebecca Catalina. Not even you, Riza, you sly motherf**r!


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was written a million years ago and posted on tumblr per an anon's request. But because I'm hella old, I forgot to post this on ffnet/ao3 :D

"Did you grab his spare gloves, too?" the brunette asked impatiently. "Top drawer and bottom drawer? What about the one in Riza's drawer?"

"I did, I swear!" the blonde First Lieutenant answered in exasperation. The cigarette in between his teeth latched onto his lips as he talked, a useless skill he managed to perfect within the last decade of his life. "I have them here in my pocket! See?"

"Good, good." The mischievous glint in her eyes sparkled like diamonds as her plans gradually came to fruition.

Rebecca Catalina was a force to be reckoned with, Jean Havoc decided, especially when it came to appeasing a nagging curiosity. As his fiddling hands reached the coarse alchemist gloves inside his pocket, the nervous man could easily discern the wicked aura around her. The calculating grin she donned and the cackle escaping her throat told the room of the excitement she found in all this.

Before she could hurl any more questions that would pop another vein on his temple, Havoc interjected smoothly, "Breda and Falman are in position. Once he leaves his meeting, they'll lead him to the break room. They even locked the door so no one else could use it. They're probably leading him there as we speak."

Rebecca hummed. "Make sure he doesn't reach into your pants pocket. Stay as far away from him as possible. Oh, wait. Where's Riza? Did Fuery take her to the shooting range? How long can that little guy hold her there?"

And of course, he had forgotten to give an update on the Captain's whereabouts. Catalina's endless questions rammed into him like a truck, which intensified the racing of his heart. He really didn't want to get a taste of the Flame Alchemist's inferno to begin with, let alone suffer the wrath of the Captain's unhuman shooting accuracy. But he also had obligations to his girlfriend. Unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa for god knows how long, he better listened to her. "Er… I think Fuery can handle it. Hayate's with him, too. Both of them will give us at least 30 minutes."

Finding his answer satisfactory, she responded, "Fine. Let's do it."

As they entered the coffee-scented room, everything had been arranged. A pair of handcuffs locked onto each arm rest. It was the scheming woman's preferred method for preventing their General from performing alchemy. Havoc had heard a rumor that his superior officer no longer needed his gloves to burn their sorry asses, but hey, no one could blame a man for wanting to employ all safety precautions.

At the ding of the coffeemaker, entered the General, clueless and mustache-less. The man looked like he aged 10 years younger without the abomination - it was truly a wonderful reprieve for their calculating eyes. Like obedient soldiers, the stocky First Lieutenant and lanky Second Lieutenant trailed perfectly one step behind to each side. What General Roy Mustang didn't expect, however, was that his junior officers were in advantageous positions to drag his unsuspecting ass to the little torture chamber they set up.

Without warning, familiar arms larger and longer than his own coiled tightly around his frame, and they hauled his thrashing body with all the strength they could muster. Mustang screamed like a petulant child as they cuffed his wrists to the wooden chair, "Aaaahh! What are you guys doing?! What the hell is this?!" They could see shock in his eyes, forming his cocked brows and gaping mouth.

Falman donned the most apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, sir… the First Lieutenant promised to-"

Mustang threatened vehemently, "Don't you know I can burn you all with a snap of my fingers?!"

"We do, sir. That's why we handcuffed you," Breda snickered. He was more amused than anything.

Like a mob boss, the female First Lieutenant stepped in with an intimidating stance, her male goons crowding behind her. A wooden stick that seemed to magically appear out of nowhere was in her hand, and she tapped her palm with the object menacingly.

Mustang's voice cracked, mimicking the scary woman's knuckles, "Ca-Catalina, what is the meaning of this?!"

"General. Spill. How did it happen?"

"No!"

"How did  _it_  happen?! Out with it!"

"Never!"

"Say it!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, challenging the hostile woman. "Or  _what_?"

"Or I'm going to tell everyone here what you did to Riza's skirts when you lived as her father's apprentice."

Havoc interrupted curiously, a sideway glance judging his superior, "Wait, what did he do to the Captain's skirt?"

"Plural. I said  _skirts_."

Mustang yanked his wrists from the arm rests. When he was unsuccessful, he squirmed like a worm too fat to escape its dirthole. "No, no, no!"

Catalina replied smoothly, "Let's just say the General's obsession with mini skirts is...  _primordial_." She turned to face the man sitting sweat-drenched, flashing him a knowing smirk. "And if I remember correctly, Fuhrer Grumman hasn't got a clue as to your little  _mischief_ , General. I'm sure such a doting grandfather would love to hear all about his granddaughter's childhood  _trauma_..."

Mustang looked like he was about to cry. Why did she have to bring up such delicate memory? And she had to make it sound like he was a serial creeper, too. His fuhrership would definitely disappear in a puff of smoke if the old man found out. So would his dignity. How the hell did she even know about this? "Fine, fine! You win!"

"Start from the beginning. I want details."

"Okay, so Ri-the Captain and I were…  _you know_ … uh."

Rebecca shot him a knowing glare, pressing the poor man further as she mouthed Riza's name and traced a picture of a triangular skirt in the air.

Roy's gaze was downcast as he spoke, "Um, the Captain and I… we sort of kissed a little…"

He looked up at Catalina's intrigued appearance. There was something strange about it, but he chucked it to his irrational fear of them finding out he had burned the bottom half of young Riza's skirts as target practice for alchemy. Some were so short she had to toss them (she actually threw them all out). But Riza always did have nice thighs, and teenage Roy wanted to see more of them. He resumed, "Okay well, maybe we did more than kiss... I kind of rubbed her back and her arms and her legs with my hands. Oh god, her skin was so soft. And then she cupped my cheeks gently, you know, like I'm the only man in the world for her. And then we nipped on each other's lips a little bit before our mouths ventured elsewhere… And then the rug got so damn hot we had to move to the bed."

Breda and Havoc threw each other an incredulous look. They definitely  _did not_  expect to hear such honesty from the General. Not that they weren't suspecting anything between the two to begin with. But what was pitiful was the fact that they weren't fishing for  _this_  information. Mustang totally misinterpreted their intended question.

Mustang continued with a mesmerized look, "You know that feeling in your stomach? Like butterflies fluttering? I felt that the  _whole_  night. And then... it only got worse when we both took each other's shirts off! Oh man, I still can't get over how soft she was all over. And then we kissed some more, not just the lips if you get what I mean. Heh. And everything else that happened after that is private. Sorry, Catalina. She's an  _amazing_  woman I'm sure you all know, but that's all I can say. She'll kill me if I tell you more than this..."

Disbelief crossed her features. Her nose flared from surprise, her eyes lit up like fireworks, her mouth dried like the sahara.  _Holy shit._  Did Roy Mustang, future Fuhrer, just admit he had sex with his Captain in front of his subordinates? Not that she hadn't suspected their feelings for each other, but to hear a decade old rumor clarified in the blink of an eye? Totally unexpected. If it were this easy, she would have done this years ago!

Falman though. Loyal, pure-hearted Falman. He just had to go and spill the fun. "Sir… um... we brought you here so you could tell us how the Captain made you shave your mustache… I don't think Lieutenant Catalina meant to ask what you and the Captain were doing…"

Mustang's jaw hung low like a Christmas ornament. _Oh. My. Fucking. God._  And when he thought he couldn't do anymore dumb shit today like being caught doing the walk of shame from his captain's apartment by the same lowly officer from last night. As Flame Alchemist, he was able to threaten that guy into submission, but these people? He just handed them another piece of information to blackmail him with!

The churning in his stomach worsened - it felt like the stew he had for lunch was being stirred violently, splashing the broth all over. And then his tongue was coated with a sour taste when he studied his team's sly expression. He dug his own grave today, Roy knew. Riza would absolutely kill him if she found out how he had stupidly assumed their intent. Since his secret was out, he might as well propose to her, right? After all, he'd had the ring cleverly concealed in his drawer for however long now. So after all the wrong he had done today, that seemed to be like the only thing he could do right.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoyed it! As always, please let me know your thoughts by leaving kudos/comments/reviews, the bad and the good. Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you'd like to shoot me a DM with feedback/ideas/anything at all, feel free to do so on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ruikosakuragi).
> 
> P.S. 11/4/18: Wrote [Part 2](https://ruikosakuragi.tumblr.com/post/179760520947/would-you-ever-consider-writing-a-sorta-morning) of this fic on my tumblr, if you'd like to read :)


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